


Revelations

by zarusoba_shoto (Bobfucker)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobfucker/pseuds/zarusoba_shoto
Summary: The angel Aziraphale is very much enjoying his freedom post-Armageddon. He doesn’t have to answer to Heaven any more, he can travel the world as he likes, he can dine at all the finest places on Earth and he can continue to collect texts that catch his fancy and keep them in his bookshop.So, with all these things considered, he certainly isn’t expecting to answer his doorbell on a rainy evening in mid-November to find one of Heaven’s cherubim on his doorstep.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! here is a silly story i started writing in january. i am going to be honest with you- this is unbeta'd and unlikely to get finished. i have so many fics in my WIPs folders that i am struggling with because i want them to be excellent, but that's meant i haven't actually produced anything new for you guys, and i'm sorry. at this point i just need to post something, and the few chapters i have of this one i think are cute enough to go up just to break the seal.
> 
> also, the roots podfic. chapter 7 is a rough one y'all and i am quarantined with my mum. there are a few exchanges i want to rerecord but. im not doing it with my mum in the house listening to me guys its not gonna happen. hopefully i can get them done asap im sorry about the wait.
> 
> anyway onto this silly nonsense! enjoy!

It is known by most of those who believe that: A) He is ineffable, and B) His plan is not to be understood, the latter of which is explained by point A in particular. Therefore, all beings have come to accept that whatever happens must be in His Plan, even if it seems to contradict their previous understanding of His Plan, as was proven at the time of the Armageddon, or as it has come to be known, the Armageddon-That-Was-Not-To-Be, the One-Armageddon-That-Got-Away, the Armageddon-That-Without-Meddling-Would-Probably-Have-Gone-Off-Without-A-Hitch, or, for short, Armageddon Version One. 

That doesn’t stop them from continuing to plan their approach for the next Armageddon though.

\--

The angel Aziraphale is very much enjoying his freedom post-Armageddon. He doesn’t have to answer to Heaven any more, he can travel the world as he likes, he can dine at all the finest places on Earth and he can continue to collect texts that catch his fancy and keep them in his bookshop. He also doesn’t have to feel guilty about spending time with Crowley, which, after five-thousand odd years of creeping shame, is very refreshing. It also means Crowley is becoming more and more amicable to spending time together too which is. Nice. Very nice.

So, with all these things considered, he certainly isn’t expecting to answer his doorbell on a rainy evening in mid-November to find one of Heaven’s cherubim on his doorstep.

Aziraphale, having spent an awfully long time on Earth, is not personally familiar with many of the denizens of Heaven. He certainly can’t put a name to the cherub before him, but that potentially could just be because he’s never seen this particular corporeal form before. Still, it’s not like he’s ever seen a cherub come to Earth without escorting Seraphim, and certainly not alone. And, since the events of Armageddon Version One, he’s not actually supposed to be getting any angelic visitors.  _ At all. _

The cherub on his doorstep smiles at him, all bright and round and freckled. He has huge green eyes, and what seems like  _ green hair _ to match, and he’s certainly well-built too. All in all, his sudden appearance is ominous at best, and if Aziraphale weren’t such a good-mannered angel he probably would have closed the door already and pretended this whole thing never happened.

Crowley certainly would have.

Instead, he puffs up his chest, and asks: “Can I help you?”

The cherub replies quickly, his tone eager and exaggerated. “Are you the angel Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale pushes a finger to the cherub’s lips, hushing him. “N-not so loud! What do you want? I-I’m not supposed to be bothered by Heaven and I’d really rather it stay that way, so-”

“O-oh, I’m sorry,” the cherub says, lowering his tone. “It’s- I’m not- Heaven didn’t actually send me, you see.” His smile is growing more wobbly and a flush begins to bloom beneath the freckles on his cheeks. “I-I actually came here personally, to talk to you- you specifically actually- I didn’t know who else to turn to and-” His talk quickly devolves into muttering, his hands toying with one another as he does so. 

He’s endearing, and certainly unlike other angels that Aziraphale knows. If anything, he reminds Aziraphale of…

“Come inside, out of the rain,” he says, ushering the cherub into the bookshop and making sure to bolt the door behind them. Crowley would berate him for believing that the cherub wasn’t sent from Upstairs, but something about his mumbling and his demeanour seem truthful to Aziraphale. 

“Right,” he says, blustering across the shop to turn on the kettle. “Cup of tea?”

“O-oh yes, please,” the cherub stammers. Without the hammering sound of the British weather to provide ambience to their conversation, Aziraphale can pick up an accent in the man’s voice. “Green, if you have it.”

None of the denizens of Heaven  _ ever _ consume Earth’s pleasures. But this cherub drinks green tea and doesn’t even think twice about it. Aziraphale does his best to still the tremor of anxiety in his hands as he makes two cups and passes one over to the cherub. He hopes he’s made the right call by letting him in.

“So,” he starts, his voice wavering a little in his throat. “You’ve spent a lot of time on Earth then?”

“N-not as much as you,” the cherub replies, toying with the handle of the mug in his palms. “But yes, I’ve been spending a lot of time here. I-in Japan, mostly.”

That explains the accent and the tea. Aziraphale’s hands start to still, and his shoulders drop as he releases a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. He can’t help the warm feeling of trust that spreads across his corporeal form, looking at this cherub. 

_ You’re like me. _

“It’s a little unfair that you know who I am and I don’t know you. May I have your name?”

The cherub lets out a breathy laugh that catches in his throat a little. Aziraphale assumes that its nerves. 

“Upstairs they… Didn’t like that I was spending so much time here. Said it was too much like someone else they’re glad to be rid of. So, they rid of me too.”

“Y-you’re fallen?!”

“No no no, not exactly, just... Estranged."

Ah. Aziraphale can definitely relate to that.

"I've decided to take a new name since I’m so unwelcome up there,” The cherub continues, beaming. “I’m Izuku. Nice to meet you, Aziraphale. I have a favour to ask of you.”

\--

In the wake of Armageddon Version One, Heaven and Hell were angry. After all, you spend millennia preparing for a war to prove your superiority, only for it to be snatched out from underneath you? The disappointment across both realms was palpable. 

In Hell, a Demon Lord comes up with a plan. A plan to create a weapon to aide the Antichrist when the next Armageddon comes. 

In Heaven, a Seraph comes up with a plan. A plan to indebt the demons of Hell to Heaven, so that when Armageddon comes, Heaven can leverage the power to make sure no mistakes happen this time.

The Demon and the Seraph make a deal, and in exchange for a future favour, the Seraph gives the Demon one of his angels.

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Izuku is aware of the events of Armageddon Version One. In fact, he’s probably a touch obsessed with it. After all, it’s pretty thrilling to know that an angel and a demon, not only were directly involved and engineering things from the beginning but in fact, working together! Such things are unheard of in Heaven. 

It’s the story of Aziraphale that inspired Izuku to start investigating Earth for himself. Whilst the Seraphim seem to refer to the angel as a bumbling idiot, Izuku knows there must be  _ something _ more to him, or else he wouldn’t have outwitted them all. Surely an angel has to be pretty quick-witted to befriend a demon too. 

But he’s never found the courage to seek out the angel directly. He’s never really had a good enough reason to disturb Aziraphale’s newfound peace in London. 

Until now, anyway. This discovery could be a pretty good excuse.

See, Izuku was just doing his usual walking route around Tokyo; a trip that takes him about 3 days to complete in full that he does every two weeks or so, when he senses him. A celestial presence that’s not an angel or a demon. But it’s not dissimilar either. The energy pulses in his periphery like a beacon and Izuku can’t help but be drawn like a moth to a flame.

He finds  _ him _ staring at a menu on the wall of a restaurant in Shinjuku. His short hair is split evenly down the middle, blazing red versus a chilling white, and his demeanour is relaxed. He is dressed stylishly, like the other humans around here (and unlike Izuku, who favours comfort in his corporeal form over style), and if it weren’t for the absolutely blinding aura around him Izuku would take him for another of Tokyo’s fashionable dressers and leave him at that. 

Instead, Izuku follows him.

The man meanders from restaurant to restaurant for about an hour, before finally settling on a minuscule noodle bar. He takes an hour to order and eat, Izuku’s shocked and glad to find another non-human entity  _ eating _ , and then he sets off again. He works his way around shops, looking at clothing and accessories. He takes whatever he wants, doing  _ something _ (something a little akin to miracles, or whatever demons call their equivalent) to make every store clerk and camera turn away before he does so. Izuku miracles yen notes into the cash register of each store he does this at, praying that this small creation won’t affect the economy too badly. 

The man takes a turn into an alleyway and stops.

“You’re following me.”

His voice is low, not giving away any emotion or intention, and he turns to face Izuku properly for the first time.

Izuku can’t help but gasp. The man’s face is rounded but still clearly strong-jawed and high-cheekboned. His eyes are two different colours, one a thunderous grey and the other a shocking azure blue. And the left side of his face… It’s scarred. A huge wound spreads across the skin, crinkled and dark. If Izuku had a human stomach it would be twisting itself into knots.

“I-I don’t mean any harm!” Izuku squeaks, his palms sweating as the man’s eyes continue to burn a hostile gaze into his skin. “I uh, well I was just… I thought that maybe…” 

It occurs to Izuku all too late that ‘ _ Hey, I’m actually an angel and you seem like you’re a celestial being too so I followed you,’ _ is easier to think of than to actually say out loud. 

“Thought that what?” The mans left fist twitches, fingers rhythmically stretching and curling one after the other. Like an itchy trigger finger.

Izuku inhales deeply, then exhales. Might as well go right in at the deep end, since he doesn’t fancy having to recorporeate if this guy does have some tricks up his sleeve.

“Have you ever met an angel before?”

\--

It shouldn’t have worked. Every logical particle of Izuku’s being screamed at him as soon as the words had left his mouth. He had braced, expecting some sort of impact, expecting the painful tear of being incorporeated and thrown back Upstairs. Instead, the man had relaxed, his eyebrows barely tilting upwards in an expression of confusion, and he had approached Izuku, intrigued. 

The breeze tickles Izuku’s ankles where they hang off the edge of the roof of the high-rise. He had pulled the man after him, to find somewhere discreet and away from prying ears that they could talk. Tokyo is a city of many people and little privacy, so a roof seemed like their best shot. Beside him, the man also sits with his legs hanging over the edge. He is slender but taller than Izuku. At this angle, beside one another, Izuku’s eyes are level with his jaw.

The ambience of the busy city yawns a silence between them, and Izuku’s hands fidget in his lap. He’s not sure what to say next, or how to even begin this conversation. He doesn’t actually know this man, this  _ being _ , and the only reason he’s here is a reckless whim. The kind of reckless whim that everyone Upstairs told him would get him into trouble, the kind of whim that they wanted Nothing To Do With, Thank You Very Much. 

Izuku doesn’t often feel lonely, but right now, with nobody to back him up, he feels positively isolated.

Beside him, the man shifts, letting out a soft sigh. He speaks softly, his tone as deadpan as it was in the alley. “Are you an angel then?”

“Y-yeah,” Izuku replies, looking down at his red sneakers. “A cherub actually.”

The man hums, his eyebrows twitching into a thoughtful frown for a fraction of a second. “My father told me that angels don’t visit Earth. Demons don’t really either, mind you.”

“Well, I’m not really like the other ange-” Wait a second. What had he just said about a father? Demons?

Two-toned eyes look at Izuku quizzically. “Are you okay?”

Izuku tries to compose himself, levelling with the man’s gaze. “Are you a demon?”

“Ah.” The man sits back, lips parted just slightly enough to make a small ‘o’ shape, the part of his hair lifting in the wind and tangling into a pinkish mix. “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay,” Izuku replies slowly. “We have time for you to explain it to me, if you’d like.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Well then,” Izuku says, holding out his palm. “I’m Izuku. What’s your name?”

The man looks at Izuku’s palm, confused, before slowly grasping it in his own. “Hello, Izuku. I’m still looking for a name, but it is nice to meet you.”

\--

The nameless man tells Izuku a story.

He tells him of a Demon Lord who bargained with Heaven. He tells him of an arrogant Seraphim who thinks he can bargain with Hell. He tells him of an angel sacrificed for the sake of a war that may not ever happen.

He tells him of an angel forced to bear the children of a demon. Of the pitiful creatures who crawled from her. Of the scorn of the Demon Lord and the wailing torture of Hell. 

He tells him of the perfect weapon, born of both realms, with the powers of both angels and demons and the weaknesses of neither.

Izuku curses the ineffability of His Plan internally, the cruelty of its machinations. He curses Heaven and Hell for their arrogance. He curses the Demon Lord for torturing his children, and the Seraph for selling an angel to Hell. 

Izuku can’t stop the tears rolling down his face as he listens to a story that he knows must be true.

“I don’t want to be their weapon,” the nameless man says. “I want to choose what I am. But… I don’t even know where to begin. And I don’t even have a name.”

The cherub heaves a shaky breath, doing his best to dismiss his sympathetic tears. “I want to help you,” he whispers, and the man turns to look at him with starry eyes.

“Why would you help me? You’re an angel, and I’m. You know.” He looks down at his feet. The words ‘ _ a monster’ _ go unspoken in the air around them. 

“If angels go about selling each other to Hell, then I’m not sure I want much to do with them,” Izuku spits through gritted teeth. “I want to help you, because you need help. I haven’t seen you do anything terrible,” (some minor thefts yes, but Izuku had already made up for that) “and so I have no reason to begrudge you.”

It’s barely perceptible, but Izuku swears he sees the corners of the man’s mouth quirk upwards just slightly, his cheeks rounding off even more than usual. 

_ Oh. He’s smiling _ .

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale curls his finger in the cord of his house phone, nerves running up and down his spine. The dial-tone echoes between his ears, ringing through him as his anxiety thrums in time with the rhythmic electronic tone. 

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. It’s just Crowley. They’ve known each other for six millennia. They know each other better than anyone else in Heaven, Hell or on Earth. 

Still, he also knows Crowley will probably be difficult to convince. The demon doesn’t like to do anything he doesn’t want to do, and when he does do it there has to be a bloody good reason. Plus, it comes with an extra layer of begrudging sass which, while endearing, can also be difficult to work with. 

Crowley still isn’t picking up, and Aziraphale feels like travelling down the phone line itself to try and find him but he won’t. That would be impolite, and it would also mean Crowley would offer to drive him back to the bookshop. Aziraphale would like to avoid Crowley’s deathtrap of a car as much as possible, so help him, Lord.

His thoughts are cut off by a familiar drawl that immediately soothes his nerves. 

“Hello,” Crowley growls down the line. 

“Crowley! It’s Aziraphale.”

“Angel,” the demon replies, his voice softening ever so slightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aziraphale chews on his bottom lip for just a second, thinking about just how to propose this idea.  _ Do I bring up the cherub right away, or not at all? It  _ is _ important to the subject at hand but _ -

"Angel as much as I love to listen to you breathe down the phone at me-" Aziraphale flushes and babbles denials down the line, which, unsurprisingly, are ignored, "-I have things to be doing you know."

"Oh please, like what?"

Aziraphale hears the telltale sound of leather against leather, which usually indicates Crowley reclining in his office chair. If you can call it that. Aziraphale hardly thinks a chaise-lounge is conducive to a working environment. (He brought it up once, but Crowley was quick to point out that neither are floral sofas from the 1940s, and Aziraphale hadn't got a rebuttal for that one.)

"Demonic things. Just because I don't answer directly to Hell anymore doesn't mean I don't have standards for my work, angel. I have a personal quota to fulfil." 

"W-well, I am busy too you know. I have a lot of  _ things _ to be doing!"

Crowley chuckles darkly. "Aziraphale, dear, why are you calling me?"

Back to the task at hand, of course. "Yes, well, you see. I had a visitor."

"A visitor?" Crowley's disinterest is palpable.

"Yes a visitor, at least let me finish before you start that tone Crowley! This visitor, he… He was a cherub."

Crowley groans. "Bloody Hell, they're sending them down from Upstairs already? I thought we'd bought ourselves at least a few centuries-"

"No no! Not from Upstairs! He's like us, you know, gone rogue."

"Oh yes, you're well known for your rogue-ish charms," Crowley snorts. Aziraphale ignores him.

"He wants to meet with us.  _ Both of us _ . Says he has something very important to show us."

The demon sighs, his breath crackling in the receiver. "And you're sure this isn't a set up to get us both incorporeated or killed because…?"

"Don't be infuriating, I wouldn't have let him into the shop if I didn't trust him."

"You barely even know this cherub, do we really have to have the talk about angels being as untrustworthy as my lot again-?"

"Crowley, please."

Silence stretches out between them, and Aziraphale winces as he splits the skin at the corner of his bottom lip from worrying it. 

Crowley groans, frustrated. "Alright, fine. We'll see what this cherub's got to show us. But only because someone has to look out for you so you don't get yourself into a mess thanks to your 'angelic trust' or whatever it is."

"Oh Crowley, thank you. I really think you'll change your mind once you meet him you know!"

"You're right."

"Oh?"

"I could always go from this passive dislike I'm experiencing to total hatred."

Aziraphale hangs up and only remembers to call back and give Crowley the details of the meeting an hour later.

\--

The nameless man isn't  _ technically _ nameless. Not that he'll tell Izuku that. It's just more that the names he has aren't exactly to his tastes.

The Weapon from Above and Below. The Angel of the Dark Beneath. Or, as his father called him more often than anything else, Boy.

No, none of those names really ever felt right. 

When the cherub had introduced himself as  _ Izuku _ … Well, that did catch his attention. It’s not every day you find angels who’ve rejected Heaven in such a way (though, to be honest, it’s not been all that long since he left Hell in the first place, so maybe it’s a more regular occurrence than he originally thought, only time will tell). 

He was even more surprised by Izuku grabbing him by the hand and taking him to a tiny high-rise apartment - Izuku’s home. The walls were covered in posters and leaflets and photos, all places and events and every photo lit up with green eyes and a vivacious smile. Izuku had unrolled his futon and settled down with his laptop on it, patting the soft sheet beside him for the man to sit, and then proceeded to begin rattling off names.

None of the names fit, but, later that night, as the man watches Izuku dozing off with a carton of take-out soba warming his palms, he realises something had definitely started to fall into place. Something about having Izuku by his side makes him feel less alien in his own skin.

It’s... nice.

He gently picks up the laptop and begins his own research into names, and by the time Izuku’s eyes flutter open next to him as the dawn breaks through the window, he’s pretty happy with his choice. The kanji on the screen are opposites, literally fire and ice. Together they look almost mismatched, but they make a name that feels right. Like his two opposing sides, brought together into one being that he’s still trying to figure out. 

“Shouto?” Izuku reads, blinking his eyes into focus.

Shouto nods. “That’s me.”

Izuku’s smile outdazzles the rising sun.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i appreciate all the comments and love y'all have given this story! I'm still unsure of the direction or if it will be finished but i'm grateful for the support


End file.
